


Humanity Hurts

by stumblinginthestars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fanfiction Gap, Human!Castiel - Freeform, M/M, heaven can't wait, s09e06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4212579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stumblinginthestars/pseuds/stumblinginthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little late to the party, but...<br/>"Don’t go,” Dean’s voice is right behind him. The hunter reaches over Castiel’s shoulder and pushes the door closed. Castiel can feel Dean behind him.<br/>“Dean…” he starts.<br/>“Look at me, Cas,” Dean’s voice is quiet. “Please.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Humanity Hurts

 

                “Where to, Cas?” Dean asks as he stands outside the impala.

                Castiel wearily sighs as the cool, night air swirls around him. He looks at Dean and is unable to hide the disappointment and sheer tiredness in his eyes; Dean sees it all. Castiel wordlessly climbs into the passenger seat. Dean furrows his brow, unsure of what to say in that moment. Rapping a fist on the cab of the car, Dean slides into the driver’s seat beside his friend. As he starts the car, he tries to make eye contact with the man. “Hey, you know what?” Dean says as the car rumbles to life beneath his feet.

                “What?” Castiel sighs, gazing out the window.

                “You… you did good tonight.” Dean says slowly, pulling out onto the road. He glances over to see Cas staring at him, head tilted. The man looks slightly skeptical. “I mean it, Cas. You didn’t suck.”

                Cas’s lips quirk up in a smile and he murmurs, “Thank you, Dean,”

                Dean nods and the two settle into a more comfortable silence. Dean sneaks looks at his friend as he drives down the road; the poor guy looks like a kicked puppy. And Dean feels responsible. If he hadn’t listened to that dick angel Zeke, Cas would be safe in the bunker. And that bitch Layla or Sandra or whoever wouldn’t have stood the angel up. Dean frowns deeply, letting his foot weigh on the gas pedal a little more than necessary. As Dean turns into the downtown area, Castiel furrows his brow.

                “Dean..?” Castiel questions, looking from the neon lights to the hunter.

                Dean lifts his eyebrows in response, the once-intense look on his face being masked with a look of indifference. Dean pulls into an empty spot and steps out of the car. Castiel remains seated until Dean comes and leans into his window.

                “What’s up, Cas? You comin’?” Dean inquires as he rests his forearms on the window’s edge.

                “Why are we here?” Cas asks in his deep voice.

                “We,” Dean says as he stands and opens the car door for Cas, “are here to celebrate your first _real_ hunting victory.”

                Dean steps back and lets Cas join him on the city sidewalk. Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets and follows Dean across the street into a bar called The Getaway. The interior of the tavern is decorated with a sort of beach-theme. The bar is lined with reeds and there are a few strategically-placed plastic palm trees in the corners. Otherwise, it could just be another one of the dives that Dean usually frequents. The hunter slides onto an empty barstool, rapping his knuckles on the scratched wood to gain the attention of the bartender who was staring blankly up at the muted box set that is mounted above the wall. Cas sits in the stool to the right of Dean and looks at his palms as Dean orders himself a scotch.

                “And, uhm, the same for my friend.” Dean adds after giving Cas a brief survey.

                The barkeep nods and prepares their drinks before setting the glasses in front of the men and turning back to the television set. Dean lifts his glass and downs half of his drink in one swallow. He breathes heavily and glances over at Cas who is eyeing the drink before him uneasily.

                “What?” Dean asks. “Do you not like scotch?”

                “No, it’s not that, it’s just…” Castiel pauses before lowering his voice, “I haven’t consumed alcohol since I became human and I am… unsure as to how it will affect me now.”

                Dean laughs lightly as he slaps a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Oh, c’mon, Cas,” he urges, raising his own glass again. Cas mimics Dean’s gesture before pressing the glass up to his lips and taking a cautious swallow. Dean is finished with his glass before Castiel can even take a second sip. Dean raps on the bar again and the bartender fills Dean’s glass robotically. Castiel finishes his first scotch in the time it takes Dean to swallow down two scotches and a shot of something the bartender called a ‘hurricane’.

                Dean is on a roll. He hasn’t drank this much in… a while. And he can actually feel the alcohol affecting him. Used to, he could barely feel any change after drowning in a bottle of Jack. Now, though, he can feel that buzz in the back of his skull and the looseness of his body and damn if it didn’t feel better. He can almost look at Cas without feeling like a piece of shit. Almost.

                Castiel moves from his scotch to just a bottle of beer, eyes downcast as he sipped on the beverage. He peers over at Dean occasionally. Dean catches Cas’s eyes when the angel’s gaze flits from the bar to the hunter.  Dean holds the other man’s gaze and leans into him, almost sliding completely off his stool. “Castiel,” Dean murmurs, placing his hand on Castiel’s bicep to steady himself. The bartender rolls his eye as Dean taps the counter again. Cas reels back when Dean moves further into his bubble, eyes heavily hooded and full of recklessness.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” the barkeep asks as he runs a hand through his greasy, blonde hair.

Dean’s eyes look turbulent as he turns to glower at the greasy man and Castiel can almost hear a thunderstorm approaching. Dean turns on the barkeep, grumbling, “I know my limit. Now, you gonna get me another?”

The blonde man obliges, cautiously pouring Dean another glass of scotch. Dean nods at the man, lifting the glass to his full lips. The ice clinks against the cup and Castiel goes back to his beer. Ten minutes later, Dean has wandered up to where a large, bald man and wiry brunette male have been playing pool. Castiel stays at the bar, fiddling with the napkin his beer had sat on. The ex-angel doesn’t understand why he is here. He doesn’t feel like celebrating the fact that he had to kill another brother and was still living in a gas station. He sighs, squeezing the bridge of his nose. Suddenly, a grunt and the loud smack of a punch landing causes Cas to snap his head in the direction of the pool tables.

Dean is lowering a fist after, from what Castiel could tell, punching the six-foot-three hulk of a man square in the jaw. The larger man holds a pool stick in his left hand, but his right hand closes into a large fist. Castiel’s eyes widen as the man lifts it and strikes Dean in the right eye. Dean reels back before charging the man carelessly. The man blocks Dean’s attack, knocking him to the ground. Dean barely clambers to his knees before the gorilla of a man smacks the hunter across the face with the pool cue.

“DEAN!” Castiel bellows, finally jumping up and racing to his friend’s aid.

“You better get outta the way, pretty boy.” The man growls at Castiel, blood dripping from a busted lip.

Castiel puffs out his chest, attempting to not look scared. “I’m sorry, sir, but my friend’s had too much to drink.” He apologizes, struggling to help Dean clamber off the ground, hauling him up by his upper arm. Dean’s right cheek and area directly beneath his eye are turning a sickly shade of purple and he spits at the bald man’s feet once he rights himself. Castiel glowers at Dean.

The man invades Castiel’s personal space, leaning down and leaving barely two inches between their noses. “This is not your concern. Now. Move.” The man’s breath is hot on Cas’s face and it reeks of beer and cigarettes. Castiel feels Dean’s arm tense up underneath his loose grasp of the hunter’s bicep.

“It is my concern as he is my friend and I—“ The man’s meaty fist connects with Castiel’s cheek, sending his head spinning.

He staggers back a foot, losing his grip of Dean’s arm. Cas frowns and is about to grab Dean and march himself and the hunter out when Dean roars to life. There is a wild look in those emerald eyes of Dean’s as he launches himself. The wiry man—who has been quietly observing—backs up a few feet in fear. The bald man’s face barely registers surprise before Dean’s fists are connecting with it. Dean expertly dodges his opponent’s swipes and jabs, only getting hit a couple more times. Dean drops to the ground as the large, muscular man tries to pummel him into the ground. Dean swivels, swiping one leg in a large arch that knocks the man’s legs out from beneath him. He falls with a thud as Dean hops back to his feet, swaying unevenly. Castiel stares at Dean in shock. There is suddenly a hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

Cas turns to see the barkeep. “You two had better leave. Now.” He commands.

Castiel drags Dean out of the bar and forces the Winchester to hand over the Impala’s keys. Dean slumps into the passenger seat, holding his jaw with one hand as his nose drips blood down over his slightly swollen upper lip. Castiel finally pulls into the motel parking lot and helps Dean stagger drunkenly to his room. The angel gets Dean to his bed, allowing the hunter to sit on the edge of the mattress before turning and heading for the door again.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice is small and imploring.

Castiel pauses briefly, closes his eyes, breathes in and out, and closes the gap between himself and the door. He grips the doorknob and begins to open the creaky, wooden door.

“Don’t go,” Dean’s voice is right behind him. The hunter reaches over Castiel’s shoulder and pushes the door closed. Castiel can feel Dean behind him. So close. He can feel the heat from the man’s body. Inches apart.

“Dean…” he starts.

“Look at me, Cas,” Dean’s voice is quiet. “Please.”

Castiel turns around and faces Dean. Their noses are inches apart. Dean’s got that look in his eyes. The same look he had when he had said Castiel’s name at the bar. Recklessness. His green eyes are swimming in liquor and lust and guilt and damn it if Cas didn’t want to be able to read his mind like he used to be able to. Dean places his other hand above Castiel’s other shoulder, pinning the man to the door.

“Stay with me tonight?” Dean asks low in Castiel’s ear.

Castiel’s breath hitches in his throat. Surely Dean didn’t mean… But when Dean’s lips connect with Castiel’s throat, all his doubts are washed away. “Dean, don’t,” Castiel groans as Dean works his way to Castiel’s collar. Dean lifts his head and locks his gaze with Castiel’s. Just for a second. But in that second, it’s like Castiel can read Dean’s mind. He can see Dean’s guilt for kicking him out and his burning desire to change things and his self-loathing that Castiel can never understand and his want for this moment.

And then Dean’s lips are on Castiel’s. Castiel feels Dean’s tongue swipe across his lower lip and moans slightly, allowing Dean full access. Their tongues intermingle. Castiel tastes the coppery flavor of blood from Dean’s busted nose. He stops thinking and just reacts— reaching up and grabbing a fistful of Dean’s hair and it’s Dean’s turn to groan with pleasure. Dean presses his body up to Castiel’s, removing his hands from the door and letting them snake their way up under the fabric of Castiel’s white button-up. Dean moves his lips down to Castiel’s neck and proceeds to suck at the tender flesh. Castiel’s mind is racing. It’s like a snow globe that’s been shaken--  is Dean in love with him or is he just drunk and guilty? What about the bunker scenario? Is Dean just going to leave him high and dry after this? What exactly is this?

“Dean,” Cas murmurs with a tone of finality, grabbing Dean’s wrists as the hunter tries to undo more of Castiel’s shirt buttons.

“Cas,” Dean sighs, not catching the tone of Castiel’s voice. The hunter smashes their lips together again, grinding up against the angel.

Cas manages to pull his lips free of Dean’s. “Stop, Dean,”

“I want you, Cas. I want you.” Dean groans, thrusting his hips forward.

“Dean… We can’t do this.” Castiel states, forcing his voice to be firm.

Dean pulls away, eyes glazed over with lust and confusion and alcohol. “What?”

“Don’t do this to me, Dean.” Castiel says, gaze dropping from Dean’s. “We both know you’re going to have to leave me again.”

“Cas…” Dean implores, taking a step away from the man.

Castiel huffs and refuses to look back up at Dean. He can see the guilt tearing Dean up inside, ripping him inside out. “I know that you want to protect Sam. I understand. I don’t want you to do this then feel obligated to ask me back. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you.” Castiel’s tone is unfeeling. Just like when they first met.

“No, Cas… I’m sorry. I’m so friggin’ sorry.” Dean’s voice cracks.

“It’s not your fault. I understand how you feel about your family and I cannot endanger the people you care about. That would be selfish of me—“

“Cas, look at me.”

Castiel doesn’t. Instead, he looks at the drapes that are shielding this scene from the world. “I advise you to forget about me. I am of no use to you, anyhow. I have no powers so I will continue leading a normal life as best I can.”

“Cas, please, listen to me,” Dean says louder as he staggers backwards as if he had been hit, but Castiel keeps going.

“—I don’t want you to worry about me. I can take care of myself. I’ll be—“

Dean grabs a lamp and haphazardly throws it across the room. “ _Look_ at me, dammnit!” The glass shatters, causing Castiel to jump. His eyes find Dean’s and the pain in them is so real that he stops breathing for a second.

“Don’t you dare tell me to forget about you! Don’t you dare! You are family to me, understand?! And I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that Sam is going to come before _anything_ else! But he’s my brother and he has always been my responsibility! And I don’t know what else to do! But don’t you go thinking that just because I have to take care of him first means I don’t care just as much about you! I’m a mess, Cas, and you know that! I just… What the hell am I supposed to do?” Dean crumbles before Cas, starting out as a bonfire, throwing anger in heat waves, then, slowly burning out until he is nothing but ashes and embers floating in the dark room.

Castiel wants to pick Dean up. Wants to hold him. Wants to pursue what the heated kiss had been leading to. Instead, he quietly says, “Let’s get some sleep. Then, you can drop me off at work. My shift starts at seven.”

So they share the motel room and Castiel pretends he doesn’t hear Dean crying when he’s in the shower and Dean pretends he hasn’t been crying when he gets out. And it hurts. But Castiel sucks in a breath and pushes through because that’s what humanity is, right? Just being hurt under a raggedy layer of bravado.


End file.
